


the dating games

by coykoi



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [6]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Dating, Medical issues, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, So many tropes, omg there was only one bed?, one slight family problem, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/pseuds/coykoi
Summary: "You won’t be able to make it work if this first date was any indication. You two havenothingin common.”“Our relationship would probably last longer than ifyou guystried dating. Imagine that disaster.”And then came the famous last words.“You want to bet?”
Relationships: Betty Brant & Michelle Jones, Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797901
Comments: 33
Kudos: 198
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> days 6 & 7 coming right up
> 
> this has turned into 'how many tropes can I fit in one story?'

There’s a bouquet of flowers in his locker.

“This is so sweet! I can’t believe she got you these for Valentine’s Day coming up,” Ned gushes, taking the flowers out himself to examine them closer. “They’re so colorful and pretty. I’ll be honest, all I got Betty was a box of Dove chocolate.”

“Yeah, my girlfriend is so amazing,” Peter mutters with an absent nod, all while wondering how the hell she got his locker combination in the first place. “You didn’t...give her my combo, did you?”

Ned merely shrugs, unapologetic. “I mean, she asked for it, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Of course not,” he sighs, teeth grinding, flowers getting shoved back in his locker. A card flutters out from in between the petals.

There’s a poem inside.

_‘Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
I better be reimbursed for this  
And these flowers say fuck you.’_

How creative.

Michelle never ceases to amaze him in that aspect, at least.

Ned eventually closes his own locker, rocking back and forth on his heels. “We're still on tonight for our double date, right? There’s something Betty and I want to talk to you guys about.”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter agrees quietly, giving his best friend an encouraging pat on the back. “Couldn’t be more excited. But, uh, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go find Michelle and, you know…thank her for such a _wonderful_ gift.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, dude.”

Peter spins on his heel, heading down the hall, towards the library. She’s always holed up there in the mornings, which is why he tends to avoid going. Not this time, though.

The doors swing open, and he walks in, finding the room scattered with a few students but not many. Michelle has a table reserved in the back, the same one she always sits at, book in one hand and coffee in the other. She doesn’t look up at his presence.

“I got your gift,” he speaks up dryly, holding the card up between two fingers. “Very heartfelt. It spoke to me in ways no other poem has before.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Parker,” Michelle replies, glancing up from her book to look at him. Her lips are curved upwards ever so slightly. “And what did you get for me?”

Peter has to laugh at the prospect. “It’s not so much a gift as it is an invitation. Mandatory, of course. There’s a double-date tonight with Ned and Betty that I didn’t tell you about. We have to go.”

Michelle’s teasing expression drops. “What? You’re kidding, Peter.”

“Wish I could say I was. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your dessert,” he drawls, flashing a sarcastic smile.

“Listen,” she says, lowering her voice. “When I signed up for this fake-dating shit, I didn’t think we’d have to go all in. _Why_ would you agree to another double—”

“Look, we’re obviously not doing this out of pleasure. We’re doing this because we’re a team—whether we like it or not—and we don’t want to lose a stupid bet to our friends. A thousand dollars each if we win. Isn’t that worth it to you?”

Michelle taps a pen against the palm of her hand for an elongated beat before sighing. “Yeah. I can’t afford to lose, and I need that money.”

“Right. So, we’ll just keep this up until they break first. It shouldn’t be too hard,” Peter finishes with a half-smile, half-grimace.  
  


* * *

  
The bet coincidentally started on the night of a double-date.

Despite it technically not being a double-date.

Ned had dragged Peter out of his bed in hopes of having a wingman on hand, just in case his first date with Betty went awry. 

And Betty, practically sharing a brain with Ned before their relationship even began, had brought Michelle.

The four of them hit it off...in an awkward friend group kind of way. 

And then it all sort of went downhill from there.

Peter had initially thought that he and Michelle were getting along rather nicely, but then their personalities started to clash with their opinions and that’s a recipe for disaster. 

As for Betty and Ned, it was more silent than a graveyard between them.

“Guys, maybe we should just call it quits for the night. Declare this a fail,” Betty had said, sighing in defeat.

“ _Bust_ ,” Michelle had called out, looking just as done as everyone else.

Ned looked relatively disappointed. “Damn. I really thought this could’ve worked. I mean...Betty and I, at least we’re compatible, right?”

“Obviously not compatible enough.”

“Hey, we’re better than you and Peter were,” Betty replied, slightly on the defensive side. “You two wouldn’t stop arguing, for crying out loud.”

“We weren’t the ones who signed up for the date, though. We were just the wingmen,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “But be real. She has a point. You guys clearly just...won’t work together, and hey. That’s fine. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Betty raised a challenging eyebrow. “What if I don’t want any other fish?”

“You won’t be able to make it work if this first date was any indication,” Michelle deadpanned. “You two have _nothing_ in common.”

“Our relationship would probably last longer than if _you guys_ tried dating,” Ned had snorted all while trying to fix his hat hair. “Imagine that disaster.”

And then came the famous last words.

“You want to bet?”

The stakes became much higher. 

Whichever relationship lasted longer, they would be crowned the winners and receive a thousand dollars each. As high schoolers, that kind of money isn’t easy to come by, so Peter is really counting on winning.

They’d clearly underestimated the difficulties.

Ned and Betty really seem to be holding their own. It’s been over two months since the first date, and their relationship has only improved from awkward silence.

Meanwhile, Peter’s relationship with Michelle had fallen into the ‘fake’ category after a week of them not being able to stand the mushy-gushy parts of being a couple. At least, not with each other. 

But pretending isn’t against the rules so long as it’s believable.

“Pete, honey, you’re tying that all wrong,” May points out, appearing behind him in the mirror. She’s right—his tie looks like a knotted shoelace.

“Help me,” he pleads, turning around so she can fix it. Her smile is brushed with something proud as she finishes the Windsor. 

“Look at you. My boy is so handsome. Are you excited for your date?”

“Always am,” Peter says, smiling a little too saccharine. 

May nods in approval, not seeing through his white lies. “Valentine’s Day is this weekend. Do you have anything else planned with Michelle?”

“We, uh...might go see a movie at the cinema.”

A movie, where they don’t have to talk to each other. They don’t even have to look at each other. It sounds like the perfect date.

“That’s a little...boring for Valentine’s Day,” May murmurs but doesn’t say anything more about it. “Okay, looks like you’re ready to go pick her up.” She holds out her car keys. “Whatever you do—”

“Do not injure your car. Yeah, I know. I actually passed my driver’s test in case you’ve forgotten,” Peter jokes.

“I was going to say...please do not do the in-and-out in my car. It’s all I ask.”

“The what?”

“Don’t...batter-dip the old corn dog. Don’t be the banana in a fruit salad. Don’t infiltrate the pink fortress.”

Peter furrows his brows, confused. “What?”

May throws her hands up in exasperation. “Don’t fuck in my backseat, Peter.”

“Oh, my god, _May_!”  
  


* * *

  
Michelle is wearing a pair of black slacks, ironed by the looks of it, and a white blouse tucked in. Her hair is gathered in a clip too small to restrain her curls, which have already started bouncing out. 

Peter thinks she looks nice.

“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” he comments offhandedly instead, staring at the road in front of him rather than at her.

Michelle huffs out a snort, rolling her eyes. “As opposed to looking like I just rolled out of the trash? Exhibit A—Parker. I think I’ll take it.”

If someone were to come up to them and say that they hated each other, they would be wrong.

Hate is a strong word.

What Peter has with Michelle is more of a mutual dislike. Maybe even a lack of respect, but that’s it. They argue and they insult each other, and it’s fine. They don’t know each other well enough to take anything personally.

“Looks like we’re here,” Peter says with a sigh, pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot. 

“If we’re not out in T-minus two hours, I’m leaving you with the bill.”

“You were probably going to do that, anyway.”

Michelle’s the one to open his car door for him, surprisingly enough, lips curled in the familiar way that he’s used to. “Believe it or not, Peter, I do have manners. Split-checks are more my thing, but if you insist on paying…”

“Don’t worry,” he replies with a slight smirk, placing his hand at the small of her back as they start towards the entrance. “The only thing I’m paying for is your dessert and my lack of a good time.”

“Typical Parker response.”

“Typical Jones attitude.”

Michelle rolls her eyes, swallowing the retort that was at the tip of her tongue as they approach their reserved table. Ned and Betty are already seated, each nibbling on their own slice of bread.

“Oh, you guys made it! Albeit...ten minutes late but still better than last time,” Betty exclaims, jumping up to give them both side-hugs, as if they didn’t just see each other at school that day.

“Did you guys already order?”

“Just appetizers,” Ned supplies while Peter takes a seat across from him. “So, MJ, I saw the flowers you left in Pete’s locker this morning. They were beautiful.”

“You know, I thought so, too,” Michelle responds with a half-smile. “And it’s great because every single one of those flowers means something.”

Betty’s eyes light up. “Oh, what do they mean?”

Michelle rests her cheek in her hand, shrugging slightly. “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”

“Damn. Alright. Well, in case you care, my babe here got me chocolate, but I ate it all already,” Betty admits, placing a hand on Ned’s arm affectionately. “He really knows what I like.”

“That’s sweet,” Peter says with a trying chuckle while selfishly wishing that their relationship wasn’t chugging along as well as it seems to be. “So...you guys are still going pretty strong, huh?”

Betty nods. “We are. We might last for another couple years if we keep this up.” She pauses, biting around a cheeky smile, all teeth. Too sweet. “Why do you ask, Peter?”

“I’m just wondering. No reason.”

“You sure? Everything between you and MJ...still good?”

“Yeah, Betty,” Michelle cuts in, eyes narrowed. “We’re fine.”

Peter smiles a bit nervously. “In fact, we, uh...we just said ‘I love you’ the other day, so we’re...good. Really good.” 

“Oh, you guys reached the ‘I love you’ stage already? That’s adorable,” Betty coos, clasping her hands together. “Can we hear it? Let’s hear it.”

“No—no, let’s...not,” he stammers, a crease between his brows, suddenly feeling very warm and clammy. Those words don’t come out easily for him, not even in the fake variety.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Michelle says, brushing it off, and Peter’s grateful for her unpressurized attitude. “No one says ‘I love you’ with an audience. That takes away all the meaning behind it.”

Betty’s mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape. “Wow. You’re so right.”

Peter breathes out a minuscule sigh of relief and looks at Michelle, smiles at her. 

For once, it’s not sarcastic.  
  


* * *

  
“Oh, my god, I’m so full,” Ned groans, pushing his empty plate away from him. “I think they gave me too much food.”

Peter agrees that the servings are humongous, which is why he and Michelle decided to just split a plate of shrimp linguini. It’s a very domestic thing to do, he thinks. Very good for convincing.

“Or maybe you just ate too much.”

Ned tilts his head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t come at me like that, MJ.”

“There’s still dessert, babe,” Betty reminds him, and he groans again, claiming that he completely forgot. “That’s okay. Why don’t you...let MJ and Peter know what we have planned for this weekend instead?”

Michelle narrows her eyes. “Planned?”

“For the four of us,” Ned says, grinning. “So, I don’t know about you guys, but I have a really bad case of Senioritis.”

Peter nods slowly, mirroring Michelle. “I think we all do.”

“You know how my aunt owns a lake house in Chautauqua? She said she’ll let us borrow it for the weekend! We could all just chill out, relax together on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m busy,” Michelle immediately excuses, monotone.

“What? No, you’re not,” Betty says, frowning. “You said you were going to stay home this weekend and binge watch New Girl, which—I totally understand that, but there are multiple TVs at the house.”

“If MJ doesn’t want to go,” Peter tentatively begins, though he’s unsure where the statement is headed.

“But why wouldn’t she want to go? It’s a free vacation by the lake! We could go swimming and make s’mores and have _fun_.” There’s an awkward moment of silence. “Come on, guys. Couples’ weekend.”

“Or, you know, it can just be a romantic getaway for the two of you while we stay here in Queens,” Michelle offers instead, smiling tightly.

Betty raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys want to get in on the romantic-esque?”

“We can do that here.”

Ned turns to Peter, his expression pleading. “Dude, what do you think?”

“I mean, it might be...fun, but—”

“You can go if you want to, Peter,” Michelle interrupts, standing up from the table abruptly. The dishes clatter, and her napkin falls. “But I’m not.” 

“Michelle,” Ned calls out, frowning, but she’s already gone.

“I’m going to…” Peter doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, already heading towards the entrance. He can see Michelle a ways ahead and has to jog to keep up with her. “MJ? Hey, where are you going?”

Michelle merely shrugs, weaker than normal, her head hanging. “Home. My two hours are up.”

“But I have the keys…”

“I have legs to walk myself, Parker.”

Peter bites his tongue to keep from listing every reason why it’s not safe for her to be out at night alone, _especially_ on these streets. “Are you upset about the trip or something? Because if you’re not going, I’m not going.”

Michelle’s jaw ticks, and she shakes her head. “You can go.”

“But...it would be weird if we weren’t together on Valentine’s Day, wouldn’t it? I mean, they’d think something was up.”

“It would be worse if we got stuck in that house together for forty-eight hours. Betty and Ned would see right through us,” she points out. “And we’d lose the bet.”

“Is that why you don’t want to go?”

“No. Just drop it, Peter.”

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” Peter says, holding his hands up as he blocks her from walking further away from the restaurant and its safety. The dim glow of the streetlight gives him a good view of her face. “MJ, are you crying?”

“Yes,” she replies, her voice lacking emotion. “Could you move please?”

Peter doesn’t. His hands are flexing at his sides because he isn’t sure what to do, but he doesn’t move. Not until she tries walking around him. 

“Michelle—”

“Listen, I’ll give you a hint. I’m not going to be watching New Girl all weekend,” Michelle eventually mutters, giving up. “I can’t leave the city. Not while...not now.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s completely fine. Look, whatever’s going on, I’ll be here,” Peter assures her gently, and she looks up, meets his eyes. Hers are wet and watery and beautiful. It takes him off-guard for a second. “We...we’ll tell them that they can have the weekend to themselves. It’s all good.”

Michelle slowly nods, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and they turn around to head back inside. 

Ned and Betty don’t ask questions. They nod and sympathize.

Peter buys her two slices of cheesecake and a bowl of fried ice cream for dessert, even though it’s excessive.

He wants Michelle to know that even though they don’t get along all the time, he’ll be there for her as a fake boyfriend.

Or even as something more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wishing it was v-day so I can write more cute fluff 
> 
> also me: not a doctor so medical inaccuracies 
> 
> also me: done w/spideychelle week! What a grind. I wrote all of these fics the day of each prompt which—
> 
> never again

_‘happy v-day, loser’_

Sent at 4:45 a.m.

Peter has been agonizing over how to respond for the past fifteen minutes, despite it being nine in the morning now. It’s just a text, probably laced with some sarcastic undertone, like an inside joke of their fake relationship.

If it were in person, Michelle would probably be shoving a dead rose in his hands, her monotone voice reciting those words to him. She’d smirk and say something along the lines of how it symbolizes sadness or the end of a relationship or something broken.

And maybe in a perfect world, he’d reply with confidence and assure her that it’s not the end of anything, that everything will be okay.

But it’s not in person.

It’s just a text, and he needs to get over it.

Peter eventually sends back ‘ _u too_ ’ and leaves it at that, trying not to think so much into the words he writes.

His phone dings again, but it’s not from Michelle this time. Ned just sent him a picture of them arriving at the lake house, the beauty of the sunrise reflecting across the water.

He’s kind of jealous, not going to lie.

But staying in Queens, staying with Michelle even if he’s not _actually_ with Michelle, was the right choice. If she needs him, he’ll be here. If not, he’ll still be here.

“Peter! I made you some burnt chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast,” May calls up the steps, sounding a little too proud about it.

“My favorite,” he says with an amused huff, jumping down the stairs. “Oh, wow. Where did those flowers come from?”

May shrugs, a smile to her lips as she serves him his breakfast. “Couldn’t tell you, Pete. They just showed up on the doorstep with my name on them.”

“You have a secret admirer! Wait, wait, I bet we could narrow it down,” Peter claims, starting to count the people who have the hots for his aunt on his fingers. “There’s that waiter from the Thai place who has a crush on you. Um, that coworker that always makes you a coffee in the morning with a pretty design—”

“Okay, okay,” May interrupts with a laugh, holding her hands up. “I lied. I know who they came from.”

“Oh. Who?”

“Happy.”

Peter’s brows fly up. “Happy? Since when do you talk to Happy? Wait a minute, how did I not know about this. You...and Happy—”

“They’re just flowers, Pete.”

“You were the one who told me that flowers turn into sex.”

May scoffs, shaking her head. “Okay, first of all, I did not use that analogy. And second, shouldn’t you be focusing on your own love life? Stop butting into my nonexistent one.” She pauses and then spins around on him again. “Speaking of Michelle—”

“Yeah, I’m going to see her later,” Peter lies, giving her a small, thin smile. “For the, uh, movie date. Her choice. Something super dark or...super hilarious.”

“Or...here’s a better idea. Embrace your Parker genes and be a romantic sap for once.” She deposits two slips of paper in his hand. “Tickets to the top of the Empire State Building. I know you’ve never been, but it’s really beautiful at night.”

“What? Oh—no, you...you didn’t have to get these for us. Really,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, like...you and Happy might want to go?”

“We’re not dating.”

“Are you sure—”

“Pete,” she interrupts gently. “Do something more meaningful than a movie date for your girlfriend. She’ll appreciate it.”

Debatable.

“I guess I can call her.”

But if she doesn’t answer, it’s not his fault.

Peter heads back upstairs, fishing his phone from his pocket. He isn’t sure how long his thumb hovers over her contact before he finally presses the call button.

It rings twice before she picks up. 

“Why are you calling me?”

Peter blinks. “Um, you actually answered the phone for once?” 

“It was an accident. My finger slipped,” Michelle says, bored. “You need something? Remediation? Consolation? Validation? Because I can offer you none of those things.”

“I’m calling because I have to take you on a date.”

“And you sound absolutely thrilled about it,” she deadpans. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Leave me alone.”

“I can’t. My aunt already paid for two tickets for us to go to the Empire State Building tonight. Something about how pretty it is,” he mumbles. “And she’s pretty adamant about me doing a romantic gesture.”

“You don’t seem the type.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you would know.”

“Fine. Only because your aunt takes up the entirety of my heart and soul,” Michelle concedes with a sigh. “But we have to be done by ten. I have somewhere I need to go.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then, Parker,” she says in a quieter tone, the same one he recognizes from the night of their double-date. The one she used while tears rained from her eyes.

He doesn’t ask her if she’s okay.

But he still wants to know.  
  


* * *

  
“Way to lay it on thick in front of your aunt,” Michelle comments once they’re sitting together in the back of a cab. She’s looking out the window instead of at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Calling me pretty in front of her.”

Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, grateful that there are no lights in the cab. He doesn’t want her to see his face.

“I was just being honest.”

Michelle twists her head to face him, the moon reflecting in the thin-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her lips curl slightly in the way he’s familiar with, the way he likes. “Thanks, Parker.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies quietly, clearing his throat. 

“You look pretty, too,” she adds, barely audible, hair falling from its place behind her ear. He flexes his fingers, restraining the odd urge to tuck it back again. “Objectively, of course.”

“Of course,” Peter echoes, wondering if it would feel more like a compliment if she said it subjectively. He shakes the thought out of his head. “So...have you ever been to the top before?”

“No. My father always wanted to take me, but…” Michelle trails off, squeezing her hands together. “Anyway.”

“How...how do you think Ned and Betty are doing?”

“Probably batter-dipping the old corn dog all over that lake house,” she muses, and Peter looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“You talked to May, didn’t you?”

Michelle smirks a little. “We’ve had a conversation once or twice.”

Peter flushes, rubbing the side of his brow. He doesn’t want to imagine what kinds of things they’ve talked about before. “Right.”

Another ten minutes pass where they just sit in silence, and then the tower finally comes into view. The cabbie gives them a heads-up, and Peter thanks him and pays, generous tip included.

“You know,” Michelle prompts, straining her neck to stare up at the building. “Looking at this now, I realize I might have a fear of heights.”

Peter grins, gesturing for her to follow him inside. “Come on, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Michelle grumbles something unintelligible under her breath as they step in and hand their tickets off. She lingers close to him the entire time as they start walking through the many, many exhibits that are artsy and interesting and kind of overwhelming, if he’s being honest.

His favorite is the 180-degree surround-sound theater that has a wall of screens displaying comic book covers and more. He asks Michelle to take a picture of him fangirling, and then another couple asks if they want their picture taken _together_.

It’ll be evidence for their Valentine’s Day date, he thinks in the back of his mind as he keeps an arm around Michelle, ingraining the way she smiles in his brain.

The flash goes off, and Peter doesn’t think he even looked.

“What a dorky picture,” Michelle mumbles softly as she looks at it on his phone. “Send it to me.”

They slip out of the exhibit and head upstairs, towards the top observation deck. Somehow, their hands are twined together when they reach it.

He doesn’t know how that happened.

“Wow,” Peter breathes out upon seeing the view, bombarded with the city lights and sight of the cloudless sky. “This is really pretty.”

Michelle peers down through the glass. “If I dropped a bullet from this height, it would kill someone.”

Peter blinks. “That’s cool.”

“It is,” she agrees.

They stand there together for a while in a silence that’s more comforting than anything, and it gives him time to wonder—just briefly—how different this date would be if it were real.

But the thing is, throughout the timeline of their fake relationship, this date feels like the realest they’ve ever gone on.

And Peter doesn’t hate it.

He likes it.

Might even like her.

The thought is startling and yet, at the same time, it’s not surprising. The first week of their relationship was like a free seven-day trial. They didn’t know how to act around each other, didn’t like being out of their comfort zones, so they quit and made it easy.

Standing here now makes Peter wish they stayed on the difficult path, just to see what would’ve happened.

“I think I can see my apartment from here,” he says, breaking the silence.

“No, you can’t.”

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Michelle heaves out a sigh, her eyes tracing the shape of the moon and the constellations surrounding it. “I don’t think Betty and Ned are getting this kind of romantic-esque in their lake house.”

“No, this is much better.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before she turns her gaze to him, lips curved in an upwards tilt. Her voice comes out quiet and brutally honest. “Thanks for staying, Parker. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Peter assures her softly, threading their hands together once again. He has no idea where he’d rather be at that moment other than with her, supporting her. “Do you...um, want a souvenir or something?”

“You mean an overpriced coffee mug that has our city’s logo and a cheesy tourist quote on it? Nah,” Michelle says, shaking her head. She unlocks her phone, sees the picture he sent as a text. “Your failure to take photos is a good enough memory for me.”

“I was distracted,” he defends.

“Yeah, yeah, you have the attention span of a…” She trails off, a frown taking over. “Shit. I have to go. It’s past ten, and I need—oh, my god.”

“What?” Peter follows Michelle as she swiftly turns around, follows her on the elevator as they go back to the first floor. “Is this some sort of rendition of Cinderella? MJ?”

“Sorry. I just...I need to get to the hospital.”

“Hospital?”  
  


* * *

  
When they make it through the front doors, the fluorescent lights make Peter’s eyes sting almost immediately. He squints while trailing behind Michelle, still unsure of why they’re there. 

She hasn’t said a single word on the way to the hospital, but she hasn’t told him to get lost either. He takes that as a good sign and remains close by, confused and concerned.

Michelle talks to the receptionist quietly, hands shaking by her side. Asks to see the doctor that monitors her father, says that she was supposed to meet him tonight.

“Miss Jones,” an unfamiliar voice speaks up, the source being a shorter man in a doctor’s coat. “A little late is better than never. Come with me.”

Michelle swallows, nodding, and she starts to follow him but then stops. Glancing back at Peter, her expression is granting permission. He understands and walks with them to a quiet room. An office.

Peter doesn’t know if this is the right place for him to be. It almost seems too personal. “MJ, are you sure you want me here?”

“You can go if you want to,” she says quietly.

He sits down next to her instead.

The doctor, his name tag reading Octavius, settles behind his desk, opening up a folder. He doesn’t beat around the bush, just dives right in.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Michelle,” he begins solemnly. “But your father’s condition is gradually getting worse.”

It’s like her entire being deflates.

Peter wants to reach out but keeps his hands clenched in his lap instead.

“How exactly...is he getting worse?”

“A person in the neurological state he’s in can sometimes survive for decades, but most people will only survive for a few years. The cause is usually multiple organ failure, or death may be sudden and of unknown cause. But...I’m afraid your father is no longer fighting.”

Michelle stiffens, her eyes glazing over. She breathes sharply out her nose, forcing a nod. “Oh.”

“You always have to put that into consideration.”

Her grip tightens on the armrests of her chair. “You don’t think I’ve been considering that for months now?”

“What I’m trying to say is...you should consider the financial aspect of this situation. Keeping him alive for many more years can be very expensive. Of course, the decision of what to do is entirely up to you.”

“Three months,” she eventually says.

“Three months of what?”

Michelle swallows thickly. “Keep him alive for three more months. I want...I need time. I need to come to terms…”

“Of course, Miss Jones. Whatever you want,” Dr. Octavius tells her, his expression compassionate but his words useless.

“Is that all?”

“That’s all for now. I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”

Michelle doesn’t waste time. She’s out of the office before Peter can even comprehend the doctor’s last words. He scrambles after her, wanting to do something—anything.

“MJ,” he calls out, and she slows down. “Michelle, I…”

“I didn’t tell you...or anyone because that’s all people would worry about,” she says quietly, and he turns her around to face him. Her cheeks are stained with tear tracks. “And worrying about it isn’t going to change anything.”

“But...money—we could’ve done something—”

Michelle bites the inside of her cheek. “Money only extends the inevitable. Yeah, maybe I wanted to win the bet to get just a little bit more time, but whatever. There’s no point at all.”

“What can I do? Tell me what to do,” Peter whispers, but she shakes her head, hand covering her eyes. He steps forward, closer and closer until he can wrap his arms around her in an all-encompassing hug. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have to stay,” she mutters.

“I’m always going to stay,” he says, cracking a smile. “Is your mom still away on business?”

“Practically lives in England at this point.”

“So...you’ve been alone at home for how many nights now?”

Michelle pulls back from the hug, her hair sticking to her face. “Good question. I wish I could tell you.”

“Okay, well. My place has heat and water and company,” he begins tentatively. “I think both May and I would feel better if you stayed with us for the time being.”

“I do love May,” she mumbles under her breath. “But I don’t want to impose on you guys.”

“I promise, you wouldn’t. It’ll be all good.”

“Are you sure?”

“At least 67%. Who knows, you might be a terrible housemate,” Peter jokes, and Michelle bumps his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

There she is.  
  


* * *

  
“Oh, you’re perfectly welcome here, Michelle,” May assures her a hundred times over with an equally warm smile on her face. “If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Michelle nods, lips curled upwards just a bit. “Thank you. I, uh, I’m actually kind of tired right now, so I might just go to bed…”

“Yeah, yeah. I can go set up my room for you,” Peter immediately says, nodding fervently. “And you can have my bed. I’ll just sleep on the couch down here.”

May suddenly snorts. “Come on, guys. I’m not _that_ much of a prude. If you two want to share a bed, that’s fine with me as long as there’s no funny business, alright? No need to take the couch, Pete.”

Right.

They’re supposed to be dating.

Peter forgot, and by the looks of it, so did Michelle.

They walk upstairs together, elbows brushing, and he suddenly feels nervous. His eyes keep finding hers accidentally, which only makes matters worse because his cheeks heat up in the worst way.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers once they get into his room. “Believe it or not, I’ve done it before, and it’s kind of comfortable.”

“I’m sure you’d appreciate a mattress much more,” Michelle deadpans. “I’m not taking your bed from you. Besides, you’ve probably never changed the sheets in your life.”

Peter has to grin as he shakes his head. “Woah, not true. As a matter of fact, I just changed them two days ago.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Take the bed, Parker. I can fall asleep almost anywhere,” she excuses, waving him away. “Maybe I’ll sleep in your bathtub, I don’t know.”

“Or...we could make things easy on ourselves and just share,” Peter proposes hesitantly, unsure if that’s crossing a boundary on their fake relationship. He doesn’t know what lines not to cross at this point.

Michelle snorts. “You think your double bed is really going to fit both of us?”

“I mean, as long as you don’t sleep like a starfish, we should be fine,” he fires back with a slight smirk, which quickly falls. “Unless you don’t want to, which is perfectly okay, too. It’s completely your choice.”

“If you’re down for it,” she says, shrugging, before turning towards the bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given her earlier.

Peter quickly goes over to his bed, smoothing out the sheets to make sure there aren’t any crumbs. And, well, if he sprays it with a can of Febreeze, that’s no one’s business but his own.

He just wants her to be comfortable, that’s all.

She returns to the room moments later, and Peter thinks his mouth goes dry at seeing her actually wearing his things. 

And then he has to remind himself _again_ that they’re not dating.

“That’s my favorite shirt, by the way,” he comments stupidly.

Michelle peers down at it. “ _If you believe in telekinesis, please raise my right hand_...wow.” She doesn’t say anything else, her unimpressed look doing all the talking.

“Shut up,” Peter grumbles, climbing into bed as she does the same thing. 

It’s cramped.

If Michelle moves her elbow in the wrong way, she’ll end up jamming it right into his carotid artery. 

“Do you have enough room?”

“Yeah.”

He’s about to fall off the bed.

Michelle lets out a huff of amusement and then lets her eyes gradually close. He assumes she’s going to sleep, but her voice comes out softly. “I had a good time today, believe it or not.”

“Me, too,” he replies, his gaze tracing the lines of her face, committing them to memory. “I...I know you probably don’t want to talk about it right now, but...with what’s happening with your father, we’re all here for you. Promise.”

There’s a beat of silence where nothing is said, but then he feels her hand rest on top of his, an easier way to say ‘thank you’.

Peter glances at the clock, finds that it’s getting late, almost midnight. His eyes are starting to droop from tiredness, and he almost falls asleep.

Almost.

“Hey, Peter,” she murmurs, barely audible, and he makes some sort of noncommittal noise in response. 

Michelle moves closer to the middle, closer to him, and presses her lips against his. It’s brief and light, but it sends a pleasant shiver through him all the same. He opens his eyes to see hers are still closed.

“You kissed me,” he whispers, hearing the smile in his own voice.

“I did.”

Peter hums quietly before leaning forward himself, kissing her softly and deeply in the way he was always meant to. Fake relationship or real, he knows he would’ve found himself in this position at the end.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, MJ.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Peter.”  
  


* * *

  
_bonus:_

Peter walks hand-in-hand with Michelle as they enter the cafe that Ned and Betty had planned to meet them at, claiming there was something important they had to discuss.

Personally, he doesn’t really want to hear about every little detail of their romantic getaway, but knowing Ned, he’ll get every little detail _and then some_.

“They’re over there,” Michelle points out, gesturing to a corner booth where their friends are sitting on opposite sides of the table. 

“Hey, guys,” Peter greets, raising a confused eyebrow at their continuous silence. “How was the trip?”

“Horrible,” Betty says.

“Awful,” Ned says.

“Oh, my god, _you_ were the one who kept nagging _me_ about every little thing that went wrong,” she groans, dropping her head in her hands. “Even though it was your fault. Why are you still complaining?”

“You’re complaining, too! And, hey, I wasn’t the only one who made a mistake, so learn to take responsibility,” Ned huffs in annoyance.

Michelle frowns. “Did you call us here to watch you argue?”

“No—Betty, _let me talk_ —no, MJ. We’re here because we wanted to let you know...that you guys won the bet.” There’s a reluctance in Ned’s tone.

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Betty sighs. 

“Men and women grow apart,” Ned adds. “But we will forever cherish those memories in our hearts.”

“Spoken like a true wise man.”

“We actually won,” Peter says, unable to help the grin stretching across his face as he looks at Michelle. “And now they owe us money!”

“Don’t look so surprised, Parker,” Michelle muses with a laugh, smirking slightly. “We’ve had more character development together than they ever got.”

“I mean, that’s very true,” he murmurs, pressing his smiling lips against hers. 

“Looks like _they_ had a good Valentine’s Day.”

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault!”


End file.
